Chapter 51

The sea is gray.

The sky was gray too.

Like a huge, cold, stale porridge that's been simmering for too long.

Tang Pu stood at the bow of the "Divine Machine Ship," the wind whipping his hair into a tangled mess. The salty, rusty sea breeze filled his lungs, making him feel alive again.

He likes this flavor.

It smells a million times better than the air in the capital, which is filled with the stench of cosmetics and power struggles.

The boat beneath my feet is moving.

It wasn't the kind of ordinary official boat that swayed and rocked like a drunken old man.

It is slippery.

Like a red-hot, sharp knife, it silently and deftly sliced ​​through the pot of sticky, gray porridge.

quick.

stable.

It was as quiet as a ghost.

This is his boat.

No.

It was her boat.

It was his strategist, his princess, his… Cui Yunshu’s ship.

Behind him followed several inconspicuous, black-painted Cui family merchant ships. Like a pack of loyal, silent hunting dogs, they followed closely behind this enormous and elegant behemoth known as the "Divine Machine Ship."

This is his "ghost fleet".

Tang Pu wanted to laugh.

He recalled the scene three days earlier when the British Duke's "bandit suppression army" set sail.

A dozen or so official boats, adorned with colorful flags, banging gongs and beating drums, resembled a theatrical troupe heading to a temple fair. They made a grand procession, as if afraid others wouldn't know they were on their way to suppress bandits.

idiot.

Tang Pu's lips curled into an undisguised, cold contempt.

They're probably still on that vast, barren sea, wandering around like headless flies. They're probably still casting their nets, hoping to catch one or two fish called "black sharks."

And he, Tang Pu, was holding a map that led to the Dragon King's treasure vault.

He took out from his pocket the nautical chart drawn on fine parchment, which he had examined countless times.

There are no complicated shipping routes on the nautical chart.

There were only tiny, bright red crosses drawn with a vermilion pen.

His fingers gently traced one of the red crosses, nestled among an inconspicuous group of rocks.

Ghost Hand Island.

He saw this name in another, more detailed intelligence report sent by Cui Yunshu.

The intelligence report stated how many people were on the island.

It says their leader is a one-eyed man who loves to drink.

It says that their daily shift change time is at 3:45 AM, the time when everyone is sleeping the most and their minds are most confused.

It even details exactly which of the stolen concubines the one-eyed leader liked to hold while sleeping at night.

Tang Pu looked at the intelligence report and felt his hands trembling.

That's not fear.

It is... reverence.

It's that kind of awe, a trembling feeling that comes from the depths of a mortal's soul when they glimpse the lines in a god's palm.

His strategist.

She sat in that small, elegant room in the capital, yet it was as if she possessed eyes that could see through everything, gazing upon this vast, turbulent sea.

How did she do it?

I'm too lazy to think about it.

He didn't need to know how she did it.

All he needed to know was that she was his mastermind.

That's enough.

He put away the nautical chart, and in his bloodshot eyes, which were filled with excitement and lack of sleep, a cold, predatory blue flame ignited.

"Pass down the order!"

His voice was hoarse, yet like a drawn sword, carrying an undeniable sharpness.

"All ships, extinguish your lights! Fold your sails! Use oars to sail silently toward 'Ghost Hand Island'!"

"Before dawn, I will put our knives to their necks!"

...

The night grew deeper.

The sea also became darker.

Like a vast, boundless, black silk cloth soaked in ink.

The "divine machine ship" glided silently across the silk.

Its hull design, ahead of its time, allowed it to maintain astonishing speed and stability even when rowed solely by human oars.

Tang Pu stood at the bow of the ship, like a black statue that blended into the night.

He can smell it.

A faint smell of alcohol and burnt meat wafted in the wind.

He can hear.

From the distant, dark outline of the island, I could faintly hear the crude laughter and curses of a drunken man.

This is the place.

Ghost Hand Island.

He drew the long sword from his waist.

The blade, in the moonless night, gleamed with a cold, bloodthirsty light.

He didn't turn around.

But he could sense that the hundreds of battle-hardened warriors behind him, handpicked from the Prince of An's mansion and the Northern Army, exuded the same suppressed, excited, and bloodthirsty aura as he did.

"Proceed according to plan."

He only said four words.

Dozens of small, black-painted assault boats, like a swarm of arrows released from a bow, silently shot out from the shadow of the "divine machine ship".

There was no sound of water.

There was no order.

The only sound is the faint, almost negligible "splashing" sound when the oars cut through the water.

Tang Pu personally led the team.

He was the first to set foot on the wet, fishy-smelling beach of Ghost Hand Island.

He stepped on something soft.

He was a drunken pirate on lookout duty, clutching an empty wine jar in his arms, sleeping like a log.

Tang Pu's knife, silently, sliced ​​across his neck.

There were no screams.

Only a warm, rusty liquid spurted out and splashed onto his boots.

Action begins.

...

Ah Da is the second-in-command of Ghost Hand Island.

At this moment, he is embracing a newly stolen woman whose skin is as white and tender as milk, and dreaming sweet dreams.

He dreamt that he robbed a large ship flying the flag of the government, which was loaded with gold and silk.

He dreamt that the boss, "Black Shark," patted him on the shoulder and bestowed upon him the most beautiful woman in the South China Sea, whom he had long coveted.

He laughed out loud.

Then he felt something cold and sticky dripping onto his face.

He opened his eyes somewhat impatiently.

Then he saw the most terrifying sight he had ever seen in his life.

A face.

A young, handsome face, yet as expressionless as a demon from hell, hung above his bed, looking down at him.

There were still a few drops of warm, other people's blood on that face.

The owner of that face was holding a bloody, one-eyed dragon head that he recognized all too well.

That's the head of their Ghost Hand Island.

"ah--!"

Ah Da's ear-piercing scream, sharp enough to tear eardrums, was tightly choked off by a cold, iron-like hand before it could fully escape his throat.

Tang Pu looked at the so-called pirate leader in front of him, who was so terrified that he was soiling himself, and his eyes remained completely calm.

He simply patted his face lightly with the knife in his other hand.

"Shhh."

He said.

"Take me to your treasure trove."

...

This cannot be called a battle.

It was a one-sided, bloody massacre.

When Tang Pu led his ravenous henchmen, like a pack of ghosts crawling out of hell, silently infiltrated the pirate barracks where the pirates were still fast asleep from their hangovers, it was all over.

The sound of a blade cutting into flesh.

The dull cracking sound of bones being chopped.

And those short, agonizing screams that were abruptly cut off just before he died.

These sounds, mixed together, formed a symphony of death that brought Tang Pu immense pleasure.

Cui Yunshu's intelligence was so accurate it was outrageous.

Which room is the armory?

Which room is the granary?

Which ships docked in the harbor were their most valuable and fastest warships?

Everything is crystal clear and perfectly clear.

Tang Pu even felt that he was not fighting a war.

He was...

He was calmly and methodically filling in red crosses on a test paper with all the answers already written.

set fire.

Burn the boats.

kill.

After all this was done, the sky finally began to brighten.

A sliver of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon.

Tang Pu escorted Ah Da, the second-in-command of Ghost Hand Island who was completely terrified, back to the deck of the "Divine Machine Ship".

He turned around and looked at the island, once a pirate paradise, that was being engulfed by raging flames.

Looking at those pirate warships, burned to mere skeletons.

Looking at the sea, there were countless mutilated corpses floating on the surface.

An unprecedented, immense, triumphant joy, like a flood bursting its banks, instantly washed away all his fatigue.

He won.

The first battle was a success.

Moreover, the victory was so clean and decisive.

He glanced at the prisoner, who was being held down by two guards and trembling like a leaf, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

This is just an appetizer.

It was his strategist who gave him the first gift.

Next comes the real feast.

He turned around and gave the order to the messenger behind him.

"Good news!"

"Use the Cui family's carrier pigeons to send the message back to the capital as quickly as possible!"

"Tell them that Prince Tang Pu of Anjun has lived up to the Emperor's grace! He has won the first battle, destroying a bandit stronghold, beheading three hundred, and capturing the bandit leader!"

"Let those people in the capital who are waiting to see us make a fool of ourselves open their dog eyes wide and see clearly!"

"How did I, Tang Pu, manage to win this... pointless competition for my princess!"

His voice echoed in the morning sea breeze.

It is full of the most flamboyant, proud, and arrogant domineering spirit of a young general.

He didn't know.

While his good news was still en route to the capital...

That massive "national team," led by the British government, was still aimlessly searching for their "black shark," a fish they could never catch, in another sea hundreds of miles away.